How it goes.

Still,
I think of you, baby
And how I grew old with you then.
And this summer, you'll call- maybe
And act as if we were old friends.
You'd say, 'How are you, baby?',
I'd say, 'It's raining in Athens.'

It's raining in Athens...

And to this day
I nurse the fever
That spoiled my poor heart.
And I've mastered the art of dealing,
Slipping away without falling apart.
So when this summer, you call- maybe
And ask how I've been,
I can be honest and answer plainly,
'Since November, it's been raining.'

It's raining in Athens...


-Azure Ray 

One more for St. Patty's Day...

Wrote this one today around 2:30, shortly after arriving at work. It's dedicated to all I worked with tonight, and anyone else who was imprisoned by their job until 10pm or so tonight while their friends went out and reveled.

Right now I should be drinking green beer,
Irish coffees, and spreading good cheer.
But instead, as we speak,
My Irish heart weeps,
'Cause all night The Man has me stuck here.

More of what I do at work...

Tonight my manager asked if I'd written any more limericks lately. I said I hadn't really felt drawn to any subjects lately, so he commissioned one with the subject of St. Patrick's Day. I wrote two. Here they are, in their painfully cheesy glory:

In March St. Patrick gets his own day
He was cool 'cause he scared snakes away
He's a great Gaelic hunk
And an excuse to get drunk
So Erin Go Bragh we all say!

In March St. Patrick gets his own day
Which we use as a reason to play
It's more fun than the Ides
When Caesar was surprised
I like beer, not stabs; et tu, Brute? 



And this is why I (don't) make the big bucks...

XXII

"Good morning," said the little prince.
     "Good morning," said the railway switchman.
     "What is it that you do here?" asked the little prince.
     "I sort the travelers into bundles of a thousand," the switchman said. "I dispatch the trains that carry them, sometimes to the right, sometimes to the left."
      And a brightly lit express train, roaring like thunder, shook the switchman's cabin.
     "What a hurry they're in," said the little prince. "What are they looking for?"
     "Not even the engineer on the locomotive knows," the switchman said.
     And another brightly lit express train thundered by in the opposite direction.
     "Are they coming back already?" asked the little prince.
     "It's not the same ones," the switchman said. "It's an exchange."
     "They weren't satisfied, where they were?" asked the little prince.
     "No one is ever satisfied where he is," the switchman said. 
     And a third brightly lit express train thundered past.
     "Are they chasing the first travelers?" asked the little prince.
     "They aren't chasing anything," the switchman said. "They're sleeping in there, or else they're yawning. Only the children are pressing their noses against the windowpanes."
     "Only the children know what they're looking for," said the little prince. "They spend their time on a rag doll and it becomes very important, and if it's taken away from them, they cry..."
     "They're lucky," the switchman said.